Pheonix Fire
by The Slash Faerie
Summary: REPOST! One confused Malfoy. A dangerous Zabini. Same object of affection. Add a pinch of lust, love, and obsession. Next, a dash of violence. Stir carefully, as elements of mixture are highly combustible. Please R&R!


Phoenix Fire  
  
By: Weasley Wonders  
  
Rating: Pg-13 . . . for now. *evil grin* Will probably be R later on.  
  
Warnings: Just wanted to say right here and now that this  
is purely a SLASH fic. That's same sex relationships, in  
this case, boy/boy lovin'! So if that's not your cup of  
tea, then don't bother reading the actual fic.  
  
Content: AU-fic. Slashy tendencies? Oh hell yea.  
Possible violence, depression, angst, obsession, and sick  
humor and when I say possible, I mean very much so. . .  
But, don't worry, there will eventually be fluff!! YAY!  
  
Summary: One confused Malfoy. A dangerous Zabini. Same  
object of affection. Add a pinch of lust, love, and  
obsession. Next, a dash of violence. Stir carefully, as  
elements of mixture are highly combustible. Please R&R!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own none of  
these characters . . . if I did would I be sitting here  
writing some stupid fan fic? I think not. Lucky, talented  
woman, that J.K. Rowling.  
  
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Ron  
Weasley, Hermione Granger (appearances by others . . .)  
  
A/N: This chapter has been *REPOSTED*! I doubt this will  
be any good, or progress quickly. Hell, I don't even have  
the entire plot figured out yet. Oh well, I'll do that as  
I go along . . . With, YOU, my lovely reviewer's help. I  
was thinking about making this fic a bit interactive, by  
asking a question at the bottom, which will decide where  
you guys want the story to go next.  
  
A/N 2: I've always wanted to do an AU high school fic.  
I know the idea is *highly* over done, and there are tons  
of excellent high school fics out their, but this is my  
attempt at one. I think it's just something I can relate  
to more than the other stuff I've written . . . *shrugs*  
The characters might seem slightly or very much so OOC.  
When I write, I don't think about it, I just do it. So, I  
apologize for any out of character-ness right now. If you  
have any suggestions or constructive criticism on this,  
feel free.  
  
Pairings: Blaise/Harry/Draco love triangle. Aw, a Harry  
sandwich. *smirks* Very nice. It'll most likely end up .  
. . Harry with . . . Aw bugger; I'm not going to tell you  
the potential ending pairing! You got to read it to find  
out! Bwahahahaha! There might be some het pairings, in a  
type of sub-plot, but that's only if the spirit moves me.  
I'm very lazy, and suck at this sappy stuff.  
  
Timeframe: Its Harry and the gang's Sixth Year at Hogwarts  
Boarding School for the Exceptionally Talented. (Yea, I  
know corny name)  
  
Phoenix Fire  
  
Chapter 1: Potty, Bucky, and The Weasel, Oh My!  
  
"POTTER!"  
  
Harry Potter jerked violently in his seat, where he had been staring out the window idly. It really was a lovely day outside. What he wouldn't give to be out there, lying by the lake, or perhaps playing a game of (1)football or rugby. Harry could feel cold, hard eyes boring into his face. He looked up at his Chemistry teacher, Professor Snape, glaring. Snape's eyes flared with contempt to rival Harry's own, his thin, sallow face contorted in a sneer of disgust.  
  
Harry sighed. Snape couldn't go one class without making a mockery out of him at least once, preferably multiple times. It kept him in a decent mood . . . although Harry wasn't sure Snape would know what a decent mood was, even if it bit him on the rear end. "Yes Professor?" Harry asked, his voice strained. 'Don't let him rile you up Harry, whatever you do . . .' he thought to himself furiously.  
  
The last time Snape had got the better of him, Harry was in a right old state. He had completely lost his cool, and went so far as to yell at the Professor with a biting remark. 'A biased, slimy git, if I remember right,' he thought half-satisfied. Standing up to the most feared professor in all of Hogwarts was one thing Harry had always wanted to do since first year, but doubted he would ever be able to do it again. He was still serving the detentions for that little bit of 'harassment', as Snape so fondly put it. 'The greasy prat completely looked over the fact that I was provoked to no end . . .' Harry thought bitterly. 'And, to make matters worse, I had lost thirty points for Gryffindor house.' The lions were not pleased with this revelation to say the least.  
  
Harry was once again interrupted from his reverie by his black haired; hook nosed, pale Chemistry professor. "Well, Potter? Aren't you going to answer the problem? Although it's highly unlikely that you would even know where to begin." Snape was looming over Harry, glaring down his hooked nose at him. 'How long have I been zoned out? Oh bugger, not this again! What was the question? Must learn to pay attention . . .' Harry reprimanded himself, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  
  
He glanced uncertainly to the bushy haired girl next to him, one of his best friend's, Hermione Granger. Lucky for Harry, Hermione was a walking encyclopedia. Most of the time when he had a question with his homework, or needed help studying; Hermione was the one he'd call. It was as if the girl actually *enjoyed* doing homework, a concept that Harry would never be able to understand. But right now, there was no way Hermione could help him, not with Snape breathing down their necks. She gave him a small apologetic smile, and looked up at Snape with distaste etched all over her otherwise pretty face.  
  
He could feel his other best friend Ronald Weasley, whom was seated next to Harry tense up, his red head directed towards the Chemistry Professor, glaring heatedly. 'True friends . . .' Harry thought absently, yet fondly all the same.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco Malfoy smirk at him, from across the room. He was obviously waiting for Harry to screw up yet again, as he did so nearly everyday in the horrid Chemistry class. Draco truly loved Chemistry. Not only was the subject highly interesting, but he got to see Potter squirm like this at least once a class. A few of the Slytherins snickered behind their hands, waiting for the impending verbal take down of the Gryffindor Golden Boy, at the hands of their Head of House, Professor Snape.  
  
"Er—um . . ." Harry mumbled, biting his bottom lip, slightly nervous. Snape, (or anyone else for that matter,) didn't intimidate him, oh no. He'd gotten over the intimidation stage ages, years ago. Harry was just worried about what Snape might do if he got the question wrong, and found out that he hadn't been listening. Snape loved to throw his weight around, constantly make sure everyone knew he was boss. Harry shuddered to think how many more points would possibly be deducted from Gryffindor, or how many more detentions with Snape he could bare. Scraping gum off of all the desks in the dungeons for the rest of his existence did not sound heartily appealing to Harry. He grimaced at the mere thought.  
  
Focusing his attention back on his scowling Professor, Harry merely shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know answer to that one . . . Sir."  
  
The corner's of Snape's mouth twitched, in what Harry guessed would be a triumphant smile, had the teacher not attempted to remain composed. "Well then, Potter, I suppose coming unprepared for class, and not paying attention deserves adequate punishment. Ten points—"  
  
"However, I do believe Hermione knows the answer. How about letting her have a go?" 'For once in your pitiful life', Harry thought bitterly. Every class, Snape would grill his students with advanced chemistry questions, and only one hand would shoot up to answer every single one: Hermione's. Did he give her the time of day? Of course not. Why would he? Hermione Granger was only the brightest person Hogwarts had seen since Rowena Ravenclaw herself, one of Hogwarts' founding four. Harry believed Hermione had enough on her plate with her classmate's jealous behavior towards her without one of her professors, the slimy git that he is, scoffing at her intelligence as well.  
  
Harry glanced over at Hermione. Her hand was predicatively, high in the air, an apprehensive look played out over her face. He raised his eyes to meet Snape's glittering black ones, and Harry did not like what he saw. Snape was turning red-no, purple with anger, the shade only deepening by the second. His face was contorted in fury, as he glared down at Harry. 'Well, he doesn't look to pleased . . . What crawled up his arse and died? Hmmm . . . I supposed I should have waited until he was done speaking . . . ah well. An outburst from our lovely Chemistry Master, detention for life, and of course point deduction was inevitable this class period. Plus, it's quite amusing to see his face turn *that* shade of scarlet.' Harry mused, looking up at Snape innocently.  
  
A loud blast of noise sounded throughout the loudspeaker. 'Yes! Saved by the bell.' Harry choked down the sigh of relief that was about to escape his lips. He knew he wasn't off the hook until he was out the door. The class, who had been intently watching the little heated exchange between the Gryffindor and Chemistry Professor, quickly scrambled to get their books, papers, and bags. Harry, one known for his speed on and off the football field, had his things gathered in a matter of seconds, and rushed out the door, with Ron and Hermione in toe.  
  
"Er—Harry?" Hermione and Ron were now level with him, as the Gryffindor trio made their way to the common room. They had a five minute break between class, and they desperately needed to drop off their books.  
  
"Yea 'Mione?" Harry slowed a bit, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and then turned his head to his bushy haired friend.  
  
"Do you really think it was a good idea to have angered Snape like that? You know how awful he can be . . ."  
  
"A good idea?" Harry raised a dark eyebrow. "A good idea, no. An amusing thing to watch, yes." He shared a knowing glance with Ron, who nodded and chuckled appreciatively.  
  
Ron turned to Harry, a cheeky grin played on his lips. "On of these days, mate, you're going to get Snape so angry he's going to implode. Ah, what a blissful day that will be . . ." Ron continued to walk with a wistful look on his face. Hermione slapped him on the shoulder playfully.  
  
"Ron! That's a horrible thing to say!"  
  
"Oh come on 'Mione, you know you were thinking it." Ron answered matter-of- factly, a triumphant grin on his face.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, and was about to retort, when a cold voice rang out from behind them, through the nearly empty corridors.  
  
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Potty, (2)Bucky, and The Weasel." Harry, Ron, and Hermione whipped around. 'Oh great, him again. I'd kill for just one Malfoy free day, just one! Is that so much to ask?' Harry glared defiantly at the pale boy in front of him. As usual, Malfoy was flanked by his two goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Harry referred to them as 'The Ferret's Bodyguards.' Then again, he doubted Crabbe and Goyle could even spell out 'bodyguard'.  
  
Harry felt Ron tense next to him. He glanced at his red-haired friend, and carefully took in the scene. Ron was already turning beat red, his ears the color of tomatoes, with his fists clenched tightly at his side. Harry noticed Ron was trembling slightly in quiet fury. "What do you want Malfoy?" Harry spat out, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. He had no intention to fight with Malfoy, but Ron on the other hand . . . Ron had issues dealing with his anger, and why not have a ferret shaped punching bag?  
  
"That was quite a show in Chemistry, Potter." Malfoy sneered, as his trademark smirk played out across his face. Oh, how he loved taunting Potter. 'It's right up there with money, power, and sex.' Draco thought, idly. There was talk that he went out of his way to ridicule Potter, but Draco simply brushed it off. It was something he could neither confirm nor deny. The only thing Draco cared about, was the pure pleasure he took in by seeing Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Gryffindor being mocked, angered, and put down.  
  
Draco took a step forward, and continued speaking. "Do you try to act like a retarded buffoon at least once a day, or does it come naturally? Oh, I forgot, you do hang around the Weasel. It must have rubbed off . . ." He smirked at the outraged look on Ron's face, and at the look of contempt on Hermione's. Finally Draco's challenging grey eyes met emerald green pools, which burned with fiery emotion deep in their depths. Draco and Harry held gazes for a few lingering seconds, before Ron decided he had enough.  
  
"That's IT! I'm sick of this Malfoy! You have a problem with me, then let's handle it, right now, one on one! Or are you to chicken without those big lugs to help you? Yea, that's it, Malfoy's a bloody coward!" Ron burst out, his face a bright scarlet. Harry supposed that over five years of relentless teasing from Malfoy would do that to someone . . . then again, Harry had never really snapped like that. And the majority of Malfoy's teasing was directed at him. Harry supposed Ron had a quicker temper then he did, and liked to react with physical violence. Although Harry wouldn't mind wiping that smirk off of Malfoy's face with a good swift punch every now and then, he wasn't normally a violent person.  
  
Draco arched a perfectly shaped, blonde eyebrow. "Did I hear right? The Weasel, disgrace to human kind, just called me, Draco Malfoy, a coward? Tell me you're joking . . . please. I could kick your arse into next year, Weasel, without even lifting a bloody pinky." Crabbe and Goyle guffawed appreciatively from behind Draco.  
  
Ron looked ready to lunge at Malfoy. Harry, sensing this, put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Look Ron, it's not worth it. We can't afford to get into trouble this early in the year." Malfoy watched this exchange with interest, although his face showed no sign of this. 'Another act of chivalry on Potter's behalf.' Draco thought bitterly. Another, smaller voice, in the back of his mind told him otherwise. 'You know that wasn't chivalry. Potter wasn't trying to show off; he was trying to help out a friend. Something you don't have.' Draco wished he could make that voice shut up, but it was always there, in the back of his mind, telling him that he was wrong, wrong about everyone . . . about Potter. He was broken out of his reverie when Hermione spoke.  
  
"And we really need to drop off our books . . . and get to class." She rationalized, looking up at Ron with pleading eyes. Ron knew they were right. The trio was known for their wild and at times dangerous adventures, which always led to a heavy penalty. It was only the first week of school, and they really couldn't afford to get into any major trouble, especially at the expense of a prejudiced git like Malfoy. And they really did need to make a break for class . . . Ron had a feeling that Trelawney wouldn't be too pleased if they came to her class ten minutes late.  
  
With a resigned sigh, Ron nodded, and backed up a few paces. "I swear Malfoy, next time . . . next time, you're dead." Without another word, Ron whipped around and stalked off, Hermione at his heels. Harry gazed at Malfoy for a moment, making the blonde Slytherin slightly uneasy, before following his friends.  
  
Draco elicited a sigh the second they left. That hadn't gone quite as he'd planned. Once again the Weasel had to jump into his and Potter's affairs. He was trying to provoke *Harry*, not the Weasley. 'Stupid Weasel. I'd kill for a Weasel free day . . . just once,' thought Draco, resentfully. It seemed that Potter was getting harder to aggravate now a days. He was so confused. Draco had wanted Potter to be irritated, to hate him, to . . . notice him. His eyes widened in shock at that last statement. He quickly disregarded it however, as he had things like this over the years. 'I'll deal with it later. Deal with Potter later,' he thought, as procrastination seemed like such a wonderful option. Why not? It had worked for him for over three years . . .  
  
Abruptly starting to walk top speed towards McGonagall's classroom, Draco completely forgot about his two 'friends.' Not like he really cared anyway. He had three flights of stairs to run up if he wanted to make it to Maths on time. And McGonagall cut no one a break . . . and Draco had his reputation as a top student and Hogwarts prefect to uphold. He was halfway up the second flight of stairs, while Crabbe and Goyle were still down by the Chemistry classroom in the dungeons, scratching their heads in confusion.  
  
~*~  
  
"Pssst . . . Harry!" Ron nudged his best friend in the ribs to get his attention. They were in Trelawney's Theater class, and Harry had been watching with mild interest, mixed with utter confusion at the musical interpretation, using movement, going on in the middle of the room.  
  
"How the bloody hell did Lavender bend like *that*?" Harry whispered back, in awe. Professor Trelawney loomed over the group in the middle of the room, barking instructions at them excitedly. 'Crazy old bat . . .' Harry thought absently. It was true; their Theater/Drama instructor was a few crayons loose of a pack. But then again, as Trelawney put it, you had to be, to teach theater.  
  
"Harry! . . . Huh . . . yeah, I wonder how she gets her back to . . . hey wait! Stop changing the subject!" Ron looked at him accusingly, and then broke into a grin, at the scandalized expression on Harry's face.  
  
"What? I was not!" Harry restored feebly. "There was no subject of the conversation to begin with, besides you going 'pssst, Harry!'."  
  
Ron scowled. "Okay, I get your point. Bloody know-it-all. Have you been taking lessons from 'Mione?"  
  
Harry grinned, and then glanced at the class. It wouldn't be their turn to do the horrid exercise for at least another five minutes. Harry had to smile when he saw Trelawney attempting to coax Neville to the middle of the classroom to perform the musical interpretation with the rest of the class.  
  
"Neville dear, you don't have to *know* what you're doing, just let the music take over your mind, and body. Let the musical vibrations, emotions set you free! Don't feel embarrassed, and it's for a grade dear."  
  
Neville squeaked and backed farther into the corner he was in. "But—but . . ."  
  
The professor swooped down on him, looking very much like an oversized insect. Her beaded necklaces and baubles jingled and swayed slightly as she gazed warily at him through large, pointed glasses that magnified her eyes at least three times their normal size. "But what, child?" Her voice held a mysterious and mystical tone, yet sounded sugary sweet, all at the same time. Through all of this, Harry still noticed the impatient note in that one of a kind, and rather eerie voice, as Neville sank into his corner a little further.  
  
"But . . . I can't . . . I can't dance."  
  
"Oh for heavens sake! It's not about dancing skills! Now, Mr. Longbottom, please join Miss. Patil, Mr. McMillan, Miss. Abbott, and Mr. Thomas . . ." Harry lost interest, feeling pity for Neville, and turned back to Ron.  
  
"Poor Neville . . . it's like he gets picked on every class." He said, as Ron nodded slightly in agreement. "Anyways, what did you want to say before?"  
  
"Oh, right. Well, this Saturday, I was thinking you, Hermione, and I should go out clubbing." Ron answered coolly. Harry arched an eyebrow, skeptically. Seeing this, Ron quickly added, "I've already cleared it with 'Moine. She's alright with it. As long as we don't get caught that is." He smirked. "Not like we would."  
  
Harry smiled at his friend's confidence. It was true, they were quite skilled at sneaking out of the castle when need be. But going to a club . . . he wasn't so sure. "Have you thought this all through? How are we going to get in? And get there?" Harry asked doubtfully. He vaguely noted that he sounded like Hermione. Sure, Ron had some pretty cool ideas in his day, but they never really were thought out.  
  
Ron grinned mischievously. "Well, first off, it's a Hogsmeade weekend. Dumbledore decided that we should start them up early, considering people sneak into the village anyways. So, the majority of the students will be gone, and won't be in our way. And, they'll think we're at Hogsmeade."  
  
Harry gave him a pointed look. So far this plan of Ron's sounded good . . . but then again . . . "Yes, but that doesn't answer my question."  
  
"Well . . . we'd probably have to take the bus. Or the car. Either that, or walk . . ." He grimaced. Neither of them fancied walking, most likely miles away, to a dingy club. They could use the Weasley's car . . . it was rather old . . . slow, and broken down, and they'd most likely have to push it most of the journey, but it was something. And Ron did drive like a maniac, so it most likely wouldn't take that long for them to get there . . . that is, praying the car decided it wanted to actually run.  
  
Harry sighed resignedly. "I suppose we could take the car. Alright, say that all works. How the hell are we going to get in?" He looked cynically at his friend, as if to say 'I know you don't have a plan, I win you loose!'  
  
Catching the look, Ron shot Harry a glare. "For your information, I happen to have this all figured out. Fred and George know the bouncer their, and they talked to him. So, all we have to worry about is being back before curfew." Again, Ron grinned triumphantly. He was doing that a lot lately, Harry noted.  
  
Harry shrugged in defeat. "Alright. Sounds like a plan. I'm in then. I've never been to a club before . . . it should be interesting."  
  
"Yeah, they're really fun."  
  
Harry was taken aback a bit. Ron's been to a club before? When? "How would you know?"  
  
"Fred and George decided it was time I saw some real fun. They took me to this real chancy club over the summer . . . there was a lot of women let me tell you. Can't wait till Saturday." Ron had a dazed look on his face, as if was remembering something particularly pleasant. Harry chuckled, shaking his head. He then looked at his watch. 'Five minutes left of this hell. Man, why did I ever take theater?' Harry thought. Professor Trelawney's excited clapping and shouts broke his musings.  
  
"Alright class, you may begin packing your things. It seems we did not have enough time for the entire class to do this exercise, as it is very time consuming. We'll pick up with it next time we meet. And I'd like a six inch summary of this activity, to be handed in next class." Professor Trelawney's announcement was followed by the bustling of her students as everyone scurried to gather their belongings.  
  
Ron gaped at the professor, and then turned to his partner in crime. "A six inch summary? What the hell am I going to write, that everyone danced around like monkeys in mating season, to really crappy elevator music?"  
  
Harry had to duck his head under his arm to muffle the loud snicker that emitted from his mouth after that statement. The theater professor's gaze snapped in their direction, and she glared at them warily before ambling over to her desk.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, 'Moine, has Ron really gone through this whole plan with you?" Harry asked, as the trio made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. The day had gone by excruciatingly slow in Harry's opinion, and he was happy to just have dinner and get a start on his homework. Next to him, Ron mocked a look of hurt, at the thought of being accused of lying.  
  
Hermione smiled at the boys' antics. "Yes, he did Harry. It's okay with me . . . surprising, right?" All three grinned at her little joke about Hermione being uptight. It was too true, after all.  
  
Ron clapped his hands happily. "So, it's all set then. I'd say we should leave after dinner. We'll probably be there around six or seven. We have to be back here by eleven, midnight at the latest." He informed the others. They were nearing the Great Hall, and all three of them couldn't be more grateful, as they were all famished.  
  
"Wait . . . what's the name of this club, anyways?" Harry asked interestedly. Ron had never mentioned anything about what club they were going to, or where it was.  
  
"It's not that far from here . . . it's called The Imperious." Ron and Hermione shared knowing, slightly worried looks for a moment. Luckily, Harry did not notice the look pasted between his friends. He was quietly pondering something himself. From behind them, Draco Malfoy smirked. He'd finally be able to get Potter in some serious trouble. Leaving school grounds without permission, yes, Potter would be in definite trouble. 'Where were they going again? The Imperious? I think I know where that is . . . I'll have to follow them . . .' He thought, smirking, as a plan formed in his devious little head.  
  
"Imperious . . . That's a cool name. Hey! How about we use that for the--- "Harry was unable to finish his sentence however, as he someone roughly pushed past him. He caught a glimpse of a white-blonde head, before it disappeared into the Great Hall. "Do you think Malfoy heard anything," he asked, glancing at his friends.  
  
Ron waved a hand carelessly. "Nah. And even if he did, he probably wouldn't know where The Imperious is . . . and he wouldn't want to risk getting in trouble himself, now would he?" Harry nodded in agreement, though he didn't feel so sure. "Anyway, what where you saying before Harry?"  
  
"Oh yea. Do you think we could use Imperious for our band name?" Harry suggested. Hermione smiled approvingly.  
  
"That's a good idea Harry, considering you guys have nothing else at the moment." She gave them both a pointed look, most likely admonishing them for allowing themselves, and their band members to slack off so much. They entered the Great Hall and hurriedly took their seats at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Ron shrugged in response to Harry's suggestion. "I agree, we have nothing else. And it's a pretty cool name . . . but I think we should try to think of one ourselves. We need to have another practice soon, and get everyone together." He then proceeded to unceremoniously shove an entire roll into his mouth.  
  
Harry chuckled, watching his friend scarf down everything in sight. "Yea, we'll have to talk to Seamus, Dean, and Ginny. It's been less than a week of school, but it seems like everyone's so much busier this year."  
  
~*~  
  
"You gonna eat that Draco?" A low and utterly stupid voice broke Draco Malfoy's train of thought. Vincent Crabbe was eying his dinner roll hungrily, and Draco realized he had yet to answer the question.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Take it, I'm not hungry anyway." It was true, Draco felt a bit distracted. That tiny little voice in his head was bugging him again. He supposed it was his conscience. It kept telling him to butt out of Potter's business, and to just let the Golden trio enjoy themselves, have a Malfoy free night. And did Draco really want to break the rules just to ensure that Potter got into trouble? Draco didn't break rules. He needed the grades, the prefect position to get somewhere in life. But then again, that was a lie. He did break rules; he broke all the rules when it came to Harry Potter.  
  
Author's Notes- So, how bad did that suck? Pretty bad right? Ah well. Draco and his little obsession with Harry didn't work out as I planned. And no, Draco is not insane or anything . . . it'll all come clear in the next chapter. Believe me; Draco's just as confused on this as we all are. Heh.  
  
I know not much happened, but I really just wanted to introduce the characters and school. There'll be much more happening in the future. Constructive criticism is always great. I'm always looking for ways to improve, and feedback really helps. Oh, and more about the boarding school and everything will be explained in the next chapter. You'll gradually know more and more about Harry's history (which is pretty much the same as it is in the books give or take a few minor details), and the rest of the gang's throughout the story. Now, for the interactive review questions:  
  
Should Harry's parents be dead or alive?  
  
A. Yes, they should be alive, and be one big happy family. (I'm kind of hoping not many people pick this one . . . this fic needs drama and plot twists after all.)  
  
B. No, he should live with the Dursley's.  
  
C. No, they shouldn't be alive, but he should live with his Godfather, Sirius.  
  
D. Harry should live with the Dursley's, but eventually live with Sirius. (I like this one the best . . . hint, hint)  
  
The one with the most votes is going to be used in this fic. It might  
not be used immediately, but every question I ask you guys is important,  
and it helps the plot move along. I'd just like to thank anyone who's  
going to review this, (and who did review this before—I still have those  
reviews in my email), and actually took the time to answer the question.  
  
(1)Football- Soccer, in Europe, for those who are from the United States.  
  
(2)Bucky- I used this as Draco's nickname for Hermione. He can't call her Mudblood, because of its meaning, and direct relation to the wizarding world. In the fourth (I think . . . I can't remember. . .) book, it said that Hermione had slightly large front teeth. Well, considering there is no magic, she can't have them magically fixed like she did in the books. However, Bucky stands for buck-toothed. I know Hermione is not buck- toothed; however, it's like Draco's character to embellish. If you have a better nickname for Draco to call Hermione, then please let me know. You'll get full credit!  
  
Well, hope you enjoyed. I don't know when the next update will be, hopefully soon, but don't hold your breathe. Well, I'm out like disco suits and mullet cuts!  
  
Mudbloods and Weasels,  
  
~*~Weasley Wonders~*~ 


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